Is It Art or Is It Competitive Therapy? The Paradox of the Slam
I love poetry. My wife is a poet. I love listening to poets recite their poetry. I have amazing memories of Marc Smith thrilling me with his almost preacher-like facility with the spoken word.
I am frequently torn by the child he birthed: Slam Poetry.
Kids who had race car beds probably grew up to work in finance with an inflated ego, a coke habit, and wildly premature ejaculation issues. But for that moment in third grade, they were gods.